They stared at each other, a few feet between them. "I've robbed more banks…»
"Yes…»
"Than anybody in America."
"More than Willie Sutton?"
"Willie Sutton, Jesus Christ-" She said, "I believe you." Sounding awed. "How many have you robbed?"
"A hundred and twenty-seven. The chances are I won't do another one, but you never know." "Amazing."
"Can I ask you one?" Foley said. "How did you get the rocking chair to rock?"
"I didn't get it to rock, you did…didn't you?"
They had a second glass of the Australian red, Danialle wondering if they should ask Dawn about the rocking chair; Foley wondering if they should switch to Jack Daniel's, speed things up while that warm feeling came over them. But thought, No, you better wait.
He said, "Dawn thinks you make the chair rock without knowing you're doing it."
"How could I?"
"I have no idea."
"But I was making the whole thing up. Peter never once yelled at me."
"You sounded sure he was rocking the rocker."
"Because I couldn't explain it."
"Maybe he was."
"You think it's possible?"
"There's no way of telling," Foley said, "so I'm not gonna worry about it."
"I think you're right. Peter used to say, 'Don't worry about anything you can't do something about.' " She said, "Why don't you call me Danny, since we're conspiring together, and might want to play this out?" She looked at her watch. "I have to go, I'm meeting with our lawyers again, and again."
He walked with her to the back of the house where her Mercedes convertible, a white one, stood waiting.
She said, "You can come and clean the house anytime you want. Or, we could have a swim and sit by the pool, sip frozen daiquiris…What's your favorite?"
Foley wasn't sure if he'd ever had a frozen daiquiri, but said, "Pineapple."
She said, "Mmmmm, me too."
"You don't mind," Foley said, "entertaining an ex-bank robber?"
"I don't know," Danny said, "you're my first."
She brought her hand to the side of his face saying, "You smell good," and kissed him on the mouth and smiled and got in her Mercedes and drove off to Beverly Hills.
Too late he thought of the check on the coffee table, wanting to give it back to her. He had watched her write the check wondering how much she was paying him for conspiring with her, saying they might want to keep it going? What she had said was they might want to "play it out."
Yeah, give her time to realize she had invited an ex-con to the house to go swimming. Though she didn't ask him about prison. He didn't think it was likely he'd see her again. She'd wake up thinking, What am I doing? And he'd mail the check to her or tear it up.
He went through the kitchen to the living room where Dawn was sitting on the edge of the sofa waiting for him, the check in her hand. She looked up at him, Foley on the other side of the coffee table, then at the check. "This is our score?"
"You don't sound grateful," Foley said.
"Why'd you take it? I told you what we're going for."
"She started writing the check-I tried to stop her."
"Well, this isn't going to do it."
"What's the amount?"
"You didn't look at it?"
"She had to leave and I walked her out."
"Something tells me," Dawn said, "you weren't going to mention the check."
"You want it?" Foley said. "It's yours."
"I want a lot more than this. What's the next move? Is she warming up to your charms?"
"She said I could clean her house."
"We'll do that next. But the main thing, she has to be nuts about you, Jack, if we're going to get what I want." Dawn came off the sofa, the check still in her hand. "I'll show Cundo what you're worth as a ghost expert."
"How much is it for?"
"Ten thousand. Actually it isn't bad as a down payment." Foley said, "Have you ever scored that in a half hour?" "I've made ten grand, Jack, in less than ten minutes," Dawn said, "that's why I'm directing the show." She left with the check.
Ten grand. He'd said it was on the house, but Danny was already writing the check he thought would be for a couple of hundred, no more than five. But if he cleaned her house and she knew he wasn't a ghost expert, what would she be paying for? Turn it around. Why was he taking money from her? What was he, like an escort? The woman paying for his company? He wouldn't be like an escort, that's what he'd be, a fucking escort. If he gave her back the check that would be the end of the ghost business. No reason to see her again.
But he wanted to see her again.
He wouldn't mind keeping the check either.
NINETEEN
"ALL THE TIME WE INSIDE," CUNDO SAID, "i'm THINKING when I get my release I go straight to South Beach, two hours away, man, tha's all and return to life there. Get it all done in a few days, everything we talk about inside. The chicks in the clubs are asking each other who that cool guy is. He could be in the movies. On the beach I know some of them get away with not covering their tetas. You know a chick don't show them unless she proud of them. Or the ones you see in the Victoria's Secret catalog, these are even of a higher quality and you can look at them all you want if you casual about it. But, I also think of coming here, not stopping in South Beach. Do I want to be the Cat Prince again, go to clubs and go-go? Or do I want to come home and be with Dawn? Of course I do."
"Since you aren't a show-off," Foley said.
"But I was tempted. Pay her back for cheating on me, because I know she did."
Foley kept quiet.
"I say that because there is no chick can go eight years without getting laid when you know she has an appetite for it, man, loves it."
"I imagine though," Foley said, "there might be a few girls who've gone that long without it."
"Yeah, but they got something else turns them on. I don't care, I'm at peace with the universe. I lie here," Cundo said-stretched out in a recliner, holding a flute of champagne on his chest-"and look at stars. They all out this evening, every star in the fucking universe is right there. Heaven, where I almost went, if those fucking emergency guys hadn't found me, I believe is some of the planets up there we can't see, off beyond the stars. It's so they don't have to look at the Earth and think oh, man, am I glad to get out of that place."
Foley said, "You think you're going to heaven when you die?"
"Course I am. I was almost there before."
"You tell me you've killed a few guys."
"So? You ever hear of self-preservation? It's okay if you know they trying to see you dead or put away. Why do I want to go to clubs and look at bare tits on the beach when I have Dawn here? She does whatever I want, rolls a perfect joint for me, as good as Little Jimmy's. You know faggots by and large roll the best joints, no question about it?"
"By and large," Foley said.
"But what she won't do is cook for me."
"You sure you want her to?"
"Before I went up and since I come home, I say why don't you ever cook? She say because she wants to be with me every moment, not be doing something else."
"I'd leave it at that," Foley said.
"She wears me out being loving," Cundo said. "How you doing with the crazy rich broad, her dead husband holding on to her?"
"There's been a change," Foley said. "I haven't told Dawn, but Mrs. Karmanos, when she came this afternoon to visit? She confessed she was putting the whole thing on 'cause she was bored. Listening to Madam Rosa gave her ideas. She got hexed and ran with it."
"Wait-she made up all the ghost stuff?" "Everything. I took a guess that's what she was doing and called her on it."